


Lament

by Ellie5192



Series: A Little Light Music [9]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, RST, Ship, UST, undercover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie5192/pseuds/Ellie5192
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was much more straight-forward when they flirted shamelessly with each other and then left it at that; when he brought her a tea with a grin and a wink, and then left her alone. She doesn't know what to do with this Andy."<br/>Sharon/Andy one-shot, follows on from Dissonance in the Little Light Music series, pre-ship/ship, UST/RST, lots and lots of angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lament

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, alright, I’ve tortured you all long enough. And now, for some resolution. Kind of. Not really. A bit. Sorry, no, that’s a lie. But good news, this is not the last chapter, not by a long stretch.  
> I beg your indulgence for any OOC moments from here on out, as we move into uncharted territory.  
> Partly inspired by NHas’ prompt “Sharon & Andy have to act like a couple during a stakeout/ surveillance operation”, although great minds must think alike, because it was already half written when you gave me your amazingly wonderful list. (Thank you, truly!)  
> As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter, thank you all for your amazing support and encouragement, and let me know what you think.

**Lament**

 

Their latest case calls for an undercover operation at a high society function full of politicians and benefactors, and she almost throws up lunch at the cliché of her and Andy arriving in their finest attire, wired to the nines and smiling like they belong there. She can’t deny that he looks very dapper in his tuxedo, but even so, she doesn’t need the stress on her nerves, especially with Taylor hanging over their shoulders.

His help with Rusty the other week- and more to the point his willingness to make a midnight run to the shops for her and hang around just for the hell of it- both elates and confuses her. It was much more straight-forward when they flirted shamelessly with each other and then left it at that; when he brought her a tea with a grin and a wink, and then left her alone. She doesn’t know what to do with this Andy. She doesn’t know what it means that she holds herself back from offering him a couch to sleep on, if only to have him stay around just a little bit longer, orbiting in her space but never getting too close.

He seems to hold himself back too, frequently making a conscious effort to distance himself from her physically, or decline an invitation to dinner.

Part of her feels glad for his restraint. Mostly she feels like a teenager with a pathetic crush. And part of her- a small, quiet part down in the depth of her soul and seeping into the fabric of her bones- recognises exactly what she’s feeling, and that’s chilling.

She hangs off his arm, a light shawl in the crooks of her elbows, her hair curled and flowing around her shoulders. She can’t deny that she feels very pretty, but she runs through the operation plan again in her head and follows him up the steps to the ballroom.

“I cannot believe you roped me into this- I am the boss” she says through her smile, nodding at people she’s never met as they walk confidently through the front doors.

“Politician’s kid gets killed, Taylor asks for the best. I couldn’t very well show up to a party like this without a dame on my arm”

She surreptitiously pinches the soft skin just under his bicep and he winces. “Call me a dame again”

He just pats her hand and leads her inside, muttering an ‘ow’ under his breath.

“Consider it a compliment” he says with a shrug, picking up a single champagne flute from a passing waiter and handing it to her. She takes it with a suspicious eye. “Sykes can’t be up this late- it’s past her bedtime. So unless you wanted Provenza and I to make a scene as a very special kind of couple, you’re in the hot seat”

She grins at him despite her mood. “It’s not the date I have a problem with it’s the fact that I’m not out there coordinating my team- Sykes included thank you”

He ignores the way his heart skips when she allows this to be called a date, and watches as she takes an absent sip of her drink. She’ll only have the one, for appearances sake, but that doesn’t mean she can’t indulge. After all, she has to make it look authentic if they’re to pull off their cover.

“Provenza knows what he’s doing”

“Don’t get me wrong, I trust you all implicitly” she replies, almost defensive, but really just reassuring.

“But?” he probes, ushering her further into the ballroom and towards the back of the room where they can get a good view of everyone coming and going.

“I’m the boss, Andy. It’s my responsibility to look after the team, and it should be on my head if something goes wrong”

He smiles at her sense of duty; at her feeling of needing to be held accountable, as though standing between the team and Taylor as the sacrificial lamb is going to make the slightest bit of difference. It might be naïve, but it’s sweet nonetheless.

Their mikes and cameras aren’t turned on yet, so their conversation is a private one. It also means he doesn’t have a barking voice in his head telling him to stop looking at the flawless gown she’s wearing and focus on the job. The night is young, their suspect a good hour away yet, and it feels like an excellent opportunity to mingle and charm, and just generally pretend that they really are together.

“Oh my god” she mutters, her eyes catching something across the room and lighting up.

“What?”

“Tanji Bharti”

“Who?”

“A woman I went to college with; she married a computer genius back east. I haven’t seen her in years. Excuse me just a moment”

She touches his arm and lightly squeezes it as she moves in the direction of the woman she recognises. With her champagne flute in one hand and her dress gathered lightly in the other she breezes across the floor, and there is little doubt left in his mind that she was born to this life. This environment, with its pearls and ball gowns, penguin suits and Moet, it’s in her DNA, and though she’s never outright said what kind of family she has, he imagines fabulous parties in the Hamptons and family holidays on east coast beaches.

Of course, it could just come from inside her- an inner self confidence and just enough good breeding to bring it out. But just for tonight he’s going to pretend she’s his East Coast Princess, and there’s nobody but his own conscience to stop him. He watches on from his place a few tables over as she taps the woman on the shoulder and they embrace in a friendly hug. They exchange a few words, and for a moment Andy is worried that she’ll give them away, blow their cover and it’s all over. But when he sees Sharon gesture in his direction and move just fractionally closer to the woman’s ear, he understands that she’s not giving the cover story to this one. This Tanji woman must be trustworthy, he thinks, and then she looks at him he nods politely with a smile, which she returns.

She says something to Sharon which causes her to throw her head back with a laugh and then shake it, denying emphatically while Tanji looks at him again, and he thinks he could be the topic of conversation.

He watches Sharon again, a light blush on her cheeks as she moves the conversation away from him. She looks relaxed, and happy, and just so radiant.

She looks like the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

He almost laughs at himself for how sentimental that sounds, until she greets a man who is obviously Tanji’s husband, and her eyes light up, and she smiles wide and honest. No, he thinks, he was wrong to chase beauty in hot young things with no brains and big tits. This- with a full and glorious life written on her face and a body that defies her age- this is true beauty.

God, if only he was allowed a drink.

He walks over to them, for lack of anything better to do, and introduces himself. A moment later Tanji excuses herself and her husband to go mingle with investors, and they just nod and wave them off.

“College buddy, huh?”

“That’s right” she says, turning to face him with a hint of a smirk.

“Let me guess- Ivy League brat, pre-law, dropped out to become a cop instead?” he whispers in her ear.

She doesn’t look put out, just amused, and takes another sip of her champagne. “You know me too well”

“Maybe I do”

She hums at him and looks out to the crowd as she raises her eyebrows, her eyes shining behind the rims of her glasses despite the fact she’s not looking at him.

“Maybe I like it that way” he adds, barely a whisper.

She nods, her eyes turning dark and contemplative, her brow furrowing just a little bit to give the impression that she’s no longer really seeing anything, but is instead inside her own head. “Maybe I do too” she answers.

Flirting, always flirting, and yet every word rings true for him, and the way her eyes hold a tension in the corners- the way they’re not completely playful- suggests it’s the same for her.

It takes another hour for their suspect to arrive, and they turn on their hidden cameras- his in a fancy lapel pin, hers in the lining of her clutch (courtesy of a joint effort with the FBI, which means hopefully they’ll foot the bill this time). They track him for a good forty minutes, making sure he doesn’t seem suspicious while the rest of the team are simultaneously raiding his house and business. They keep an eye on the people he talks to, and Sharon is quick with the running commentary in Andy’s ear, identifying the high political fliers and top executives that this guy keeps as his closest company. They mingle politely, but never linger long enough to have to give details about themselves or become in any way memorable, and if anyone seems suspicious, they don’t show it.

Just as the clock is about to hit the hour- the agreed time for their surveillance to come to a close because the raiding parties have started processing their scenes- a burly man in a sharp suit with a clear earwig steps up to their suspect. He gives a short and sharp apology to the people he’s talking to, and walks briskly away towards a side door with an angry look on his face.

Eyeing the configuration of the ballroom, Sharon moves quickly to intercept his path, dragging Andy with her. They step in front of the door with an effected giggle from Sharon just as the man is about to step through it, and he crashes into her, his wine glass spilling all down the side of her dress and his own shirt front.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” she exclaims, feigning shock, casually stepping further into his path and planting her hands on his chest. “I didn’t even see you-“

“It’s fine, please”

“Oh no, please, let me pay for that, look at your shirt, it’s ruined”

She deliberately stalls him, preventing him from walking out, their cameras transmitting a clear picture of his face to the surveillance van, and the act giving the team a clear warning that the suspect knows something is wrong.

“Really, it’s fine. Please, I’m just-”

“Oh honey, look at this gentleman’s shirt, it’s all my fault”

Andy finds it completely bewildering to hear her sound so needy, but follows her lead and acts his part.

“Sir, please let me apologise for my wife, it was a complete accident-“

“Really. It’s fine. Now please, if you could, I really must go”

They can’t stop him any longer without causing suspicion, so they watch him walk away and hope they gave the team enough time to get things sorted at the other end. They have little reason to stay now, and so they make their way into a back corridor and around to where the bathrooms are, as well as a small sitting room, though he can’t see why this place needs one. Andy flips his lapel over and notices the little light has turned off, and sighs, the need to be on guard all over, the others awaiting their return. She notices some wine that spilled onto her shoe and takes a seat in one of the sitting room chairs, sliding her heal off and fishing a tissue out of her clutch.

“Your dress” he says, seeing the drying wine stain down the side.

She sighs and picks at it. “It’s white wine. Hopefully my drycleaner can work a miracle”

They hear the band strike up in the next room, and a soft smile crosses her face as she puts the shoe on the ground by her feat, sliding her foot out of the other one too so she’s at least one height.

“And I didn’t even get a dance out of it” she says.

Her tone is light, but he thinks she might be a little bit serious, and so he pulls her up and further into the small carpeted sitting room by one hand and spins to face her.

“Oh no, I can’t, look, I have no shoes and a ruined dress”

“So we’ll dance here” he says, sweeping her into his arms and swaying them side to side. “We’ve danced together barefoot on carpet before, if you recall”

She certainly does recall, and so with a final roll of her eyes she allows him to lead them around the small space of carpet, ruined dress, bare feet and all. She can’t stop the grin that takes over, and he knows he has a goofy expression on his face. The music is a lively waltz, not nearly intimate enough to dance like they did the last time, but he leads them in silly circles and they grin at each other as he nearly fumbles over the hem of her dress, which is dragging on the ground without the height of her heals.

If he could do this every day he thinks he’d be a happy man indeed- he doesn’t even need the sex really; who is he kidding, of course he does, but this right here feels more intimate and more loving than anything else his mind can conjure up, and if he one day finds a way to show her how he feels, he thinks he’ll tell her that. He thinks he’ll dance with her every night for the rest of their lives, in one fashion or another. He thinks the smile she’s giving him is answer enough to a question he hasn’t even asked yet.

He spins them around and around, and then loses his balance, toppling over the table in the middle in the room and saving himself by just admitting defeat and sitting on it. She catches herself before she crashes into him and giggles at him, their hands still clasped. He stands up, but loses his balance and sits back down again, and then stands up again and this time stays upright thanks to her hand on his arm.

They’re laughing at each other, tears in the corners of their eyes, and Sharon loses her own balance as the giggles take her over in waves. She clutches Andy’s arm and sways away from him clutching her stomach, before her centre of gravity sends her swinging back into him. He’s laughing just as hard, and catches her upper arms without thinking.

He has no idea what comes over him. He loses his head, he lets instinct take over, he forgets for a minute all of the reasons why not and where they are and what’s at stake. He holds her arms as they both laugh.

And then he leans down and kisses her.

It’s brief.

It’s perfect.

They both go willingly, their eyes closed, and for two whole blissful seconds they’re just two people on the brink of a whole new future sharing their very first kiss, the sound of their laughter still ringing in the air.

And then the spell is broken.

She pulls away with wide, expressive eyes, a look like betrayal crossing her features.

“I’m sorry” he says, his hands still lightly on her arms. “I’m sorry, that was-“ He lets her go. “That was stupid”

“Yes” she breaths, her eyes still betraying her shock. “Yes it was”

Her voice doesn’t match the words she’s saying. He risks a glance at her, and finds her to be fidgety and unsure, and he’d almost pat himself on the back for flustering the unmovable Sharon Raydor, except it doesn’t feel like a victory.

She shakes herself out of her stupor and sits down to quickly put her shoes back on, and then stands and places one hand on the back of her hip. She spins slowly in a full circle on the spot, her other hand coming up to trace the corners of her mouth.

Once she’s facing him again she stops, her composure back.

His hands have found their way to his pockets and he thinks if he just stares at the floor long enough surely it will do him a solid and eat him whole.

“Andy-“ she begins.

He looks at her, and she’s trying to find her words, the hand not on her back doing as much talking as her mouth. Some days he thinks that if she was forced to sit on her hands she’d be a mute. Other days a single look can say all she needs.

“This… us… it’s…”

“I know”

They both suddenly become very still. They are aware that neither of them is denying it; that whatever they’re talking about, they both recognise it. It’s there. None of the words in this conversation mean what they think they mean. Nothing is coming out right. But then they take a moment to just look at each other, and it’s one of those times when they don’t need words.

“I’m sorry” she whispers, her eyes tearing up just a little.

“I know”

“We can’t” she says, stronger. She shakes her head. “The job, Rusty… we can’t”

He just nods, and looks to the floor again with a puff of breath.

She looks so conflicted, standing there almost in tears as she reminds them both why it just can’t be the way they want it to be. She clicks her tongue at herself, seeing her grief reflected in his hunched posture and the way he won’t meet her eyes again.

She steps forward, holding back her tears, shaking her head, and in a move that surprises him, she wraps her arms around him in a firm and solid embrace, holding on tightly. His head ends up on her shoulder, and he slides his hands out of his pockets and brings them around her back, fingers splayed, and clutches to her.

“I wish things were different” she whispers over his shoulder.

He only tucks his chin further against her neck and squeezes just a little bit tighter.

“One day they might be” he replies after a minute, finally finding his voice again.

She sobs, once, and then pulls away and composes herself, and they both make a silent agreement to not let this get in the way of whatever it is they have; the delicate balance they’re maintaining. He looks at her long and hard, reiterating his previous point, and she gives a single imperceptible nod. He picks up her hand, running his thumb across it, and then kisses it.

She’s not sure how it’s possible that she’s both elated and heartbroken at the same time.

“Until then…” he says, and holds out the crook of his elbow, his posture straightening. “M’lady”

She smiles at him, a real and tender smile, full of all the gratitude she can’t express and all the love she might just feel after all, and takes his arm and allows him to lead her out the side door and towards their surveillance van.

She’s often been caught in that hard place between following the rules and being fair. It seems a cruel irony that her own fastidiousness has come back to bite her. That Andy seems to understand should make her feel better, but it just makes the whole situation more miserable. Of course she finds a man now, here, in this place of her life, a man who truly gets why she is the way she is. Of course he’s the one man who is entirely off limits.

She boxes it all away and is grateful that she has him at all, and then she steps into the surveillance van that’s hidden around the corner and lets the work consume her.

She has no idea how else to cope with this.


End file.
